


Prima Facie

by Dolimir



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-29
Updated: 2011-12-29
Packaged: 2017-10-28 11:19:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/307332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dolimir/pseuds/Dolimir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A tape from Blair's past threatens to destroy his friendship with Jim.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Motion of Discovery

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to thank Lola who beta'd this story for me so very long ago, Susn who told me my original title gave away the ending, and JoAnn who helped me with the new title.
> 
> This is not a HHJJ story. It is, I believe, an accurate portrayal of end of third season/beginning of fourth season Jim.
> 
> *-*-*-*-*-*

Captain Simon Banks looked up from his papers as a knock at his office door interrupted his train of thought. "Come," he called out gruffly, annoyed that Rhonda hadn't run interference for him.

A petite woman slipped nervously around his door and shut it behind her with slow deliberation.

Anderson, Simon thought, one of the evidence file clerks. "What can I do for you, Laura?" he asked softly, sensing her nervousness and trying to put her at ease.

The blonde swallowed hard then moved swiftly to one of the chairs in front of his desk and sat down. "I... I... I..."

"Take a deep breath, Laura. Would you like a glass of water?" He started to stand, but she shook her head vigorously so he sat back down, which seemed to calm her.

"I don't want to lose my job. I love working for the department, sir."

Simon remained silent, although he nodded encouragingly, not wanting to rush her statement. Laura had a reputation for being efficient and businesslike; for her to come to him in such a distressed state told him that something was very wrong. The paperwork lying beneath his elbows would just have to wait.

"I... I was just logging in evidence for Vice on the Peterman drug bust."

"I hear the boys downstairs got lucky and hit the mother lode."

Laura's hands danced nervously over a black plastic case in her lap. "As you know, in a case like this it's standard procedure to go in and take everything out."

Simon nodded encouragingly at her when she hesitated.

"I've been entering Peterman's video collection into the system, which means I basically stick each tape into a VCR and make sure the label on the tape corresponds with the contents." Simon said nothing when she paused in her narration. "I've helped solve two murders, broke up a prostitution ring and was able to id the perps in a series of home invasions this way," she whispered, dropping her gaze to her trembling hands.

"I remember your commendation last year. You've always been an asset to the department."

Tears ran down the woman's face, unexpectedly. Simon leaned across his desk and handed her a tissue. She nodded her thanks then dried her eyes.

"This job saved my life, sir. After my husband died, I thought I'd go nuts. His whole life was about helping people. I wanted to continue on in his name, to be part of the department he loved so much, but I knew I would never be able to meet the physical requirements necessary to become an officer."

"I remember Daniel. He was a good man."

"The best." She sniffed, then closed her eyes. "Blair was the one who suggested I should take an administrative job. He said I could be part of Dan's world without having to participate in the inherent dangers of the job." Laura opened her eyes and looked Simon directly in the face. "I think... I think Dan would've been proud of my decision."

"I know he would have," Simon concurred.

Laura looked down at the video case in her hands. "I owe Blair my sanity."

"He's a good man. I'm proud to have him on my team."

Laura's whole body shook as a sob was wrenched from her. Simon grabbed another tissue then walked around the desk, kneeling by her side. She waved off the tissue, instead shoving the case into his hand.

"It's the original, sir. There are no copies. I haven't logged it in yet. Do with it as you will."

"Laura --"

She shook her head vehemently and slid out of the chair from the opposite side. "Watch the tape, sir. I'll abide by your decision, but as far as I'm concerned it doesn't exist." She covered her mouth as if trying to catch the escaping sob, then turned and fled his office.

*-*-*-*-*-*

"Jim, my office please," Simon requested quietly when he passed his lead detective's desk.

Jim Ellison looked up, surprised. Normally when his captain wanted him, he just bellowed. Simon's roar was expected. It meant business as usual. This seemingly quiet approach unnerved Jim more than he cared to admit. He stood hesitantly then followed his captain into his lair.

"Rhonda, hold _all_ my calls," Simon said before placing the phone back in its cradle. "Shut the door, Jim. Please," he added in the same quiet tone. He nodded toward a chair and Jim sat in it, waiting, expectantly. The captain sat on the edge of his desk, rubbing his face with one large palm.

"Vice took Peterman down yesterday."

"Yeah, I heard."

"They hauled in something close to a half million dollars in uncut heroin. Even managed to bring in over half his middle men and a good portion of his street distributors. It's a case that'll probably make the national news. After the damage "the crew" did to Vice, the department could really use the good press."

Jim nodded, but remained silent, knowing his captain was working toward something.

"Standard procedure is to take everything and catalogue it, even video tapes."

"I know. Isn't Anderson in charge of that?"

"That's right." Simon stood and began to pace. "She came to me about two hours ago with this tape. She told me she hadn't logged it in and wasn't going to... as far as she's concerned the whole matter has been left to my discretion."

Jim turned, his eyes widening.

Simon shook his head and raised one hand, heading off the protest he knew was coming. "She's as pure as they come, Jim. She's untainted. The woman was in tears when she came to me. She's terrified over the thought of losing her job."

"So why did she give you a tape without entering it first?"

"Watch the tape, Jim. I want your input as to what you think I should do with it."

"What I --?"

"Watch the tape, Jim."

*-*-*-*-*-*

Jim shifted uncomfortably in his chair as Simon pressed the play button. The video was black and white, sort of grainy, the type documentaries often used.

*-*-*-*-*-*

"I've spotted the one I want to talk to." The cameraman's excited voice reverberated around the captain's office and Simon moved quickly to lower the sound. The picture on the screen had obviously been shot while the man walked. The camera struggled to focus on the sidewalk and the bottom portion of the various buildings he passed. "Based on his location to the main strip, I would speculate that he's in, but not real deep. He looked scared, but determined, when I drove by. He's just starting to get into the lifestyle. There he is."

The jerky motion of the camera stopped and focused on a lone figure turned away from the cameraman. The extremely thin figure was wearing faded blue jeans and a jacket; hands stuffed in the pockets made it impossible to tell the person's sex. If the reporter hadn't just said 'he' Jim would have thought it was a woman because of the long curly hair cascading down the figure's back to his jean clad buttocks.

Upon hearing the cameraman's approach, the figure turned, a look of fear in his eyes, then a sly smile blossomed over the handsome face.

*-*-*-*-*-*

Jim gasped aloud and Simon paused the tape, freezing the frame on the face of a very young Blair Sandburg.

"Do you want me to continue?"

Jim nodded, unable to speak.

Simon pushed the play button on the remote.

*-*-*-*-*-*

"A camera." Young Blair smiled seductively. "That's kinky."

"Do you mind?"

"Depends on what you want to do with it."

*-*-*-*-*-*

Jim noted that Blair looked gaunt. His arms and legs were practically sticks. The jeans he wore were torn and seemed indecently snug on the thin frame.

*-*-*-*-*-*

"What do you normally do?"

"Hey, I may be young, but I'm not an idiot."

"I'm not a cop."

"Sure you aren't."

"Look, I just want to talk. I can pay you for your time."

Blair licked his lips nervously. "All you want to do is talk?"

"And film."

"Like I said, kinky, man." Blair laughed nervously, but sobered quickly. "How long?"

"An hour, minimum. Maybe longer. Depends on our rapport."

"For just talking?"

"And filming."

"'Cause anything else is gonna cost you extra."

"I understand."

Blair hesitated. "Okay. Fifty dollars an hour. The rest to be negotiated. You pay for the room."

"Deal."

The tape went dark for a moment. When it came back up, they appeared to be in a seedy hotel room.

"So what are we going to talk about?" Blair asked nervously as he walked to the filthy window and looked out.

"I was hoping we could talk about you."

Blair turned and grinned impishly at the camera. "Hey, my favorite subject. So where do you want to start?"

"How about your name?"

"My name?"

"It's as good a place to start as any."

Blair nodded nervously, then shrugged. "My name is Blair. I don't... I don't feel comfortable giving you my last name, just yet."

"Fair enough," the disembodied voice said. "Would you do me a favor, Blair?"

"Sure. It's your time."

"If it won't cost me extra, would you take off your shirt?"

Blair laughed. "Naw, man, I won't charge you for that. Do you want them both off?"

"No. Just the long sleeved one."

Blair slowly unbuttoned his flannel shirt, smiling seductively at the camera while doing so. His eyebrows waggled as he slipped the shirt from his shoulders, turned and shimmied the shirt down his back, then pulled it off with a flourish. The cameraman chuckled.

"Show me your arms, Blair."

The grin instantly vanished from the kid's face. Blair folded his arms in front of him, hugging his chest as if he were cold, making him look incredibly young and vulnerable.

"Blair, show me your arms," the cameraman said in a slightly sterner voice.

Slowly, Blair unhooked his arms from his body. He raised his head and looked out the window, humiliation clearly written on his face, while he held his arms straight down by his side, facing toward the camera.

*-*-*-*-*-*

Jim swallowed hard as he noted the track marks on the too thin arms.

*-*-*-*-*-*

"How long have you been using, Blair?"

"It's not like that," the kid whispered, but refused to look toward the camera.

"Then tell me what it's like."

"You think I'm a junkie."

"You're not?"

"No."

"Then why are you hustling?"

Blair swallowed hard and finally looked back at the camera. "Look, I'm a student."

"Which high school do you go to?"

"Not high school. College, man. I'll be a junior next semester."

"Oh, come on. What are you? Eighteen?"

"Yeah."

"And you're a junior... in college?"

"Hey, I was in an accelerated program. I've been going to college since I was sixteen," Blair said, his tone angry at not being believed.

"No offense, dude. Just asking."

Blair nodded and moved back to the window.

"So what does your being a student have to do with hustling?"

Blair's hands moved nervously through his long hair. "My scholarships don't cover everything, you know?"

"So hustling gives you spending cash?"

Blair nodded.

"And drug money?"

The nodding stopped. "I'm not addicted, you know?"

"I never said you were."

"You've been implying it."

"So you're saying you aren't down here on the strip willing to sell blows for twenty a pop in order to get drug money?"

Blair raised his chin defiantly toward the camera. "That's right."

"Are you willing to put your money where your mouth is?" the cameraman asked in a not quite taunting voice.

"Hey, that's why I thought you approached me in the first place."

"It's just a figure of speech, Blair. I didn't mean it like that."

Blair snorted in laughter.

"So, you game?"

Blair looked nervous, but nodded.

"I'm willing to pay you one hundred dollars for each hour you spend in this room with me."

"Doing what?"

"Just talking, like we're doing now."

"For how long?"

"For as long as you want."

"And you'll give me a hundred dollars for each hour? No matter how many hours I stay?"

"Yes."

"Let me see the cash, man."

The camera angle shifted awkwardly before a hand appeared holding a wad of cash. "Here."

Blair stepped forward and took the bills, flipping through them. "There's like two thousand bucks here, man."

"Are you game?"

"And all we'll do is talk?"

"And film."

"And film." Blair grinned brilliantly at the camera. "Man, it's going to be a pleasure taking your money," he said as he handed the cash back.

The screen went dark again.

*-*-*-*-*-*

Jim turned and faced his captain.

"It gets worse, Jim."

"How much worse?"

Simon opened his mouth to speak, but Jim just shook his head, cutting him off. "Just roll the tape."

*-*-*-*-*-*

The hand was back in front of the camera with the cash. "Just to show you I'm on the up and up. Your first hour is complete, so go ahead and peel yourself off a c-note."

"How about my original fifty?"

"Take it, too."

Blair grinned as he peeled two bills off the wad and handed it back to the cameraman. He pulled his wallet from his jeans, folded his bills very precisely, and carefully put them in his battered leather billfold, before putting it back in his rear pocket.

"Anyway, as I was saying, the tribesman of Tunisia..."

The screen darkened again.

When it came on, Blair was pacing back and forth, his hands waving in the air as he spoke. "During the Hittite empire, the ruler became absolute; regarded as the representative of the weather-god, which was their supreme god in their polytheistic religion, and was basically deified at his death. In some ways the Hittite legal system was more just and liberal, say, than the Mesopotamian and Mosaic codes."

"Blair," the cameraman called out.

The young man stopped. "Yeah?"

"Here." A hundred dollar bill was thrust in to view.

"Cool. Thanks, man." Blair sat on the edge of the bed and removed his billfold, adding the newest bill with the same precision he had with the others. He stood up and put his wallet back in his rear pocket. "Anyway, what was I saying?"

"You were talking about the Hittite legal system."

"That's right. I mean the whole culture is just fascinating. They regulated prices and used silver pieces as money, which is...."

The screen went dark again.

*-*-*-*-*-*

"What's wrong, Blair?"

"Nothing's wrong, man."

"You appear to be nervous."

"Naw. It's just that it's a beautiful day out. The sun is actually shining for a change." The young man sighed. "God, I hate rain. I don't suppose we could go outside to get some fresh air while it's actually nice out?"

"I'd rather not. But you can open the window if you'd like."

"Cool." Blair moved quickly to comply.

"Oh, by the way, you hit another hour mark."

*-*-*-*-*-*

Jim grimaced as he watched the weird folding ritual take place again. He sighed in relief as the image faded to black.

*-*-*-*-*-*

When the picture returned, Blair was on his hands and knees cleaning the bathroom floor with a grungy towel.

"Blair?"

"God, can you believe how filthy this place is? I mean, come on. How much does it cost to hire someone to come in once a day and clean? This place is just disgusting."

"And why is it your job to clean it up?"

"Cause I'm bored, man. You won't let me leave and I'm not used to being idle."

"You can leave any time you want."

"Naw, man. I'm here to take your money." Blair flashed the camera an impish grin then stood and rinsed the towel in the sink. "Do you have any idea what I can do with two thousand dollars?"

"Get high to your heart's content?"

Blair turned angrily. "Look, I told you, I'm not addicted. From what I'm going to make today, I can buy a book I've had my eye on for a long time, and eat some real food for a change instead of that dorm crap. Do you have any idea how bad that stuff is for you? I mean I might as well eat at Wonderburger for all the nutritional value I get out of a meal from the cafeteria."

"You don't look like you eat very much."

"Oh, man, I eat like a horse. It's just that between studying, classes and tutoring sessions I'm always running. Ya know?"

*-*-*-*-*-*

The hand appeared once again with the bill that Jim was beginning to loathe. Thankfully, the camera went dark as Blair pulled out his wallet.

*-*-*-*-*-*

"So, what's your name?" Blair asked, pressed back as far as he could get into the corner on the far side of the room. He was unconsciously scratching his skin, leaving angry red welts on the pale skin.

"My name is Mark."

"So, why are you filming me, Mark?"

"It's for a film class. I go to UCLA. I'm hoping to enter my work in a national contest."

"On what?"

"Heroin addiction."

"Then you're wasting your time with me. I only use as a pick-me-up. I can stop anytime."

"You seem like a smart guy, Blair. Surely, you know that's a classic denial line?"

"Yeah, well in my case it's true. I only shoot occasionally. You know, when I'm starting to get beat down?"

"So you only use to get a little energy?"

"Yeah, but never during finals, man, 'cause that stuff will seriously screw with your brain." Blair rocked slightly from side to side in the corner. "Hey, is my hour up?"

"Yeah. Sorry, buddy. Here you go."

Blair leaned forward onto his hands and knees and crawled toward the money, before taking it and backing up into the corner.

"Your arm's bleeding, Blair."

The kid looked down at his forearm. Several of the welts were dotted with thin lines of blood. Blair shrugged nonchalantly as he pulled his wallet out of his back pocket.

*-*-*-*-*-*

"Do you need a break, Jim?" Simon asked quietly.

Jim shook his head and swallowed hard.

*-*-*-*-*-*

"How long have we been here, Mark?" Blair asked, visibly trembling on the bed.

"Five hours."

"God, who knew time could drag so much?"

"How are you holding up, kid?"

"I'm doing okay," Blair whispered. He closed his eyes, his entire frame shook violently once, then stilled. After a moment he propped himself up on his elbows and looked at the cameraman, a seductive grin blossoming slowly over his face. "I know a way we could make the time pass quicker."

"I... don't think so."

"Hey, it won't cost you any extra. Besides, I'm starting to feel bad about taking your money and not doing anything in return," Blair said as he sat up on the edge of the bed.

"Hey, a deal's a deal."

Blair slid off the bed onto his knees, stalking forward like a cat on the prowl. "Your mouth is saying no," he whispered, "but your body is definitely reacting."

Mark gasped as Blair's hands disappeared beneath the frame. Suddenly, the camera struggled to focus on the ceiling. "Jesus," a shout echoed around the room and the sound of a chair overturning became clear. Seconds later, from the far side of the room, the picture returned to Blair who was still on his knees, sitting back on his heels, grinning wickedly.

"Look, your hour's up. Here." The camera fumbled again and a crumpled bill was flung into the middle of the room.

Blair flowed smoothly to his feet, slinked forward, and licked his lips as he slowly bent to pick the bill off the floor. Chuckling under his breath, he went back to the bed and pulled out his wallet, the bizarre folding ritual caught completely on tape before the picture went dark.

*-*-*-*-*-*

The picture slowly focused on the young man whose head was on his knees, his arms wrapped tightly around both legs, rocking back and forth on the bed, crying. Tears ran down his face. "I'm not an addict, man. I'm not. I'm not."

The camera moved in closer. The voice behind the camera broke with emotion, "Yes, you are, Blair. I wish to God you weren't, but you are."

"Why are you doing this to me, man? What have I ever done to you?" Blair raised his face toward the camera, his mouth open as silent sobs racked his body.

"I just need you to see the truth. You have to see the truth."

"Why?" was the anguished wail. "Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?"

"Because my big brother is addicted, Blair," the answer was returned in an equally anguished voice. "Because I can't save him, but maybe I can save you. Maybe I can reach you before it's too late. You have so much to live for, so far to go in life. Don't throw it away."

Blair threw his head back on his shoulders and keened high and long.

"You're halfway through withdrawal right now. Stay with me, Blair. Here. Here's another hundred. You made it another hour. You can do this. You can beat this addiction." The hand fumbled forward and tucked the bill in between Blair's chest and thigh.

"No. No. No. No. No. I can't do it. I can't," Blair sobbed, clutching the bill in his fist and holding the money to his chest. "You don't understand. I can't do it. I can't."

*-*-*-*-*-*

"Simon," Jim cried out, then rubbed his face with the palm of both hands. "I can't... How much more is there?"

"Of this last segment... about thirty minutes."

"Where does it end?"

Simon turned off the television and fast forwarded the tape. When he reached the appropriate counter number, he turned the television back on.

The image showed Blair hunched over, slowly pulling the liquefied heroin into a needle.

"No," Jim mouthed.

With trembling hands, Blair hunched forward, his hair obscuring the camera view of the actual shoot up. As soon as he was done, he tossed the needle on the table and loosened the belt strap on his forearm. His head fell back against the plastic chair. His eyes closed in pleasure. His breathing became more even.

The camera recorded faithfully for several silent minutes.

"Blair."

Blair moaned in pleasure. "Yeah, Mark?"

"Come with me downtown. Let me get you enrolled in a methadone clinic."

Blair opened his eyes halfway. "Methadone is for addicts, man. I told you I only do this every once in a while."

The tape continued, but Jim held up his hand and Simon immediately turned off the tape.

Jim leaned forward in his chair and held his head in both of his hands.

"No one in the precinct has seen this, except Laura, and she's not going to tell anyone. How... how do you want to handle this?"

Jim lifted his head. "What are you saying, Simon?"

"I'm saying, that as far as I'm concerned, this tape doesn't exist."

"Why?"

"Because he's a good kid. Because he's been clean for as long as you've known him, right?"

Jim nodded.

"He's done a lot of good in this department, done a lot of good for you. I'm not willing to humiliate him for something that happened almost ten years ago, when he was little more than a baby." Simon stood and began pacing. "God, I just want to know where in the hell Naomi was during this time."

"I don't know." Jim shook his head, then stood and walked to the window. "How am I ever going to trust him again."

"What do you mean, Jim?"

"I mean he's never said a word."

"And just what would you have wanted him to say? To a cop?"

Jim leaned his head against the cool glass. "I don't know."

"Is he coming in today?"

Before Jim could answer, a quick knock at the door interrupted them and Blair popped his head around the door.

"Hey, Jim, I just wanted to let you know... whoa. I'm sorry. Bad timing. Sorry. I'll be at your desk getting a head start on your paperwork," the young man said as he caught the tension in the room.

"Sandburg," Jim snapped.

"Yeah, Jim?"

"Have a seat."

"Jim, I don't know...." Simon started.

"I want this out in the open." Jim turned and faced the department's observer. "Chair. Now," he said, pointing to one of the chairs in front of Simon's desk.

Blair gulped nervously but complied with the order, looking to Simon for an explanation as he did so. "What's up, guys?"

"Sandburg," Simon started, but stopped and rubbed his chin briefly with one hand. Taking a deep breath, he tried another approach. "You know our records are audited from time to time, right?"

The open face before him nodded.

"And you know how important it is for our records to be as accurate as possible, right?"

"Yeah," Blair said in a tone which told the men that he had no idea where the conversation was heading.

"I was just wondering if there was anything you wanted to amend in your observer's paperwork - just in case of an audit?"

Blair looked back and forth between the two men. Simon was looking at Jim and Jim was looking out the windows, his face tight with pain.

"Are your senses okay, man?" Blair asked, starting to push himself out of the chair.

"Just answer the question, Sandburg," Jim growled.

Blair sat back in the chair and frowned as if running over the application in his head. He opened his eyes wide. "Hey, Vera said I didn't have to include campus parking tickets. But if it's a big deal I can talk to Suzanne and get a printout; although I think their records only go back about five years and I've been at the university for almost twelve, so--"

"We're not talking about your goddamn parking tickets," Jim snapped, pushing himself off the window and closing the distance between himself and the seated student. "Just answer the goddamn question."

"Jim!" Simon bellowed before the detective could lean into the observer's personal space. "Back off! That's an order."

Blair blinked, pressing back into his chair as far as he could go.

"Son, I don't want to call college a den of inequity, but I know for a fact that quite a bit of experimentation goes on, what with students trying to find themselves and all."

"What are you trying not to ask me, Simon?"

"Blair," the captain started, then stopped; sitting on the edge of his desk and letting out a long sigh. "Have you ever taken drugs? Experimented with pot?"

"Not since I was five, man."

"What?" Simon barked out in surprise.

Blair chuckled, but sobered quickly as the tension in the room mounted. "Look, my mom was a flower child. She knew people who experimented with drugs, probably even smoked some weed herself when I wasn't around. She was pretty non-judgmental that way. Sometimes people would bring pot over to the house, but they were never allowed to smoke it inside. When I was five, I was outside playing on the porch when one of her friends was smoking. When he put the joint down, I picked it up and took a drag. Naomi was always telling me that smoking was bad for you, but it seemed like all her friends did it. I just wanted to see what it was all about."

"What did Naomi do?" Simon asked, leaning forward.

"Oh, man, she basically scared the shit out of me. My friends said you could hear her shriek all the way down the block. First she got a broom and beat the crap out of Chuck for being so stupid, then she washed my mouth out with soap and made me gargle for like ten minutes. For the next week she burned sage, and got her hands on every piece of drug literature she could find."

"So you're saying you never experimented in college?"

"Look, man. I have an IQ of 127. Do you have any idea how many brain cells are killed, not damaged, man, but killed, in one drag of pot? I didn't get to be the youngest teaching fellow in the history of Rainier by being stupid."

"Goddamn it, Chief, don't lie to us!" Jim shouted.

Blair deliberately pushed himself out of his chair and turned to face his friend and roommate. His face was carved in granite. His blue eyes were frosty. "You obviously have something to say, Jim. So why don't you just say it instead of beating around the bush?"

Jim grabbed Blair's forearm and forced the younger man to face the television set, viciously punching the play button on the VCR.

*-*-*-*-*-*

Blair's young face appeared on the screen. "Don't worry about me, man. I'll be okay. Really, I will. I got this under control. I'm sorry about your brother though. Truly, I am. "

The young Blair pushed himself out of the chair.

"Hey, look, I'm sorry about not staying longer, but I gotta study for some tests. Are you going to be okay?"

A choked voice whispered, "Yeah, Blair. I'll be okay."

"We could still... you know. I mean, I want you to feel like you got something for your money."

"No, that's okay."

"You sure?"

"Yes. I'm sure."

"Okay, then. I'm out of here. I want to go buy that book I was telling you about, and I think I'm going to see if Janey is free for dinner. Thanks, Mark, it's been... strange."

With that Blair bounced out of the room. The camera, still facing the door, was very obviously set on the bed. A sob was heard off camera and the picture faded to black.

*-*-*-*-*-*

Jim released Blair's arm as soon as the VCR clicked off. Blair turned, his face briefly showing his confusion before becoming unreadable. He looked at Jim then over to Simon and back to Jim again.

"I see," he said quietly.

"Is that all you have to say, Chief?"

"What else is there to say? You've seen the tape, you've drawn your own conclusions."

"What in the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"You're a detective; you figure it out." Blair's right hand moved up his chest and very deliberately unclipped his observer's pass. He turned and took a step toward Simon, swallowing hard before handing the laminated plastic to the captain. He seemed almost reluctant to release it, but once he did he moved toward the door. "Trust is a two way street, Jim. I can't back you up if you don't trust me."

"What are you saying, Sandburg?"

"I'm saying I'm tired of fighting with you, man. I tried to tell you about Alex, but you didn't listen to me. Yes, I lost sight of _us_ because I was caught up in the science and the possibilities of two sentinels meeting, but I let you intimidate me into silence. My not coming clean with you wasn't for a lack of trying on my part and you know it. Then with the whole Ventriss fiasco, you pretty much made it clear what you thought of my opinion. Sort of have egg on your face with that one, don't you, Jimmy?" Blair said the name as if it were a vile oath.

Jim opened his mouth to speak, but Blair cut him off with the wave of his hand.

"Well, I'm done crawling, Jim. I'm done begging you to believe me, especially when you're so far from pure yourself."

"Sandburg -"

"No. I won't listen and I won't be intimidated any longer. The ride's over. I'll be out of your hair as quickly as I can." With that, the former observer slipped through the door.

Simon took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Shit. That could have gone better."

Jim stalked toward the door. "He's not walking out of here until--"

"Yes, he is, detective," Simon said, physically blocking the door. "Give the kid some time to cool off."

"Cool off? He lied to us, sir. He's been lying to me for three years."

"Is that what your senses are telling you?"

"What?"

"Did your senses tell you he was lying?"

"What do my senses have to do with this? The evidence is right there," the sentinel said, pointing toward the television set.

Simon took a step toward his detective. "Look, Jim. I'm not a psychologist, but I know your life story pretty well. Everyone you've ever cared for or trusted has basically let you down or betrayed your trust in some way; from your father, to Oliver, to Carolyn, and Lila. You've been looking for Blair to betray you ever since you read the first chapter of his dissertation, but the kid has done nothing but stick by you through thick and thin. Quite frankly, I don't know how he puts up with your crap."

"Is that all, sir?"

"No, that's not all, _detective_. What I saw when Sandburg first turned around was confusion."

"What are you saying, sir?"

"I'm just repeating what Sandburg said. You're a detective. I want you to figure out what in the hell is going on."

"And the tape, sir?"

"Will stay with me until we have our answers."

*-*-*-*-*-*

The loft, as he suspected it would be, was empty. Empty not only of his roommate, but of his roommate's possessions. Blair had never completely unpacked after Sierra Verde. Still, he had to have had help in order to have cleared out so fast. He took a deep breath. Ah, Chad and his English Leather and Jesse with her Chanel No. 5.

He found Blair's key in the middle of the kitchen table. No note. No forwarding address.

Nothing.

Jim rubbed his forehead.

Was Simon right? Had he been expecting Blair to betray him somehow and therefore blinded himself to the truth?

He swung by the refrigerator and snagged a beer on his way to the couch. He plopped onto the sofa, popped the lid off the bottle and carelessly threw it onto the coffee table in clear violation of house rules.

The creature on the video was Blair. There was no mistaking that fact. Even now, the memory of the too-thin frame haunted him. Blair's ribs had practically stuck out from the Henley he had been wearing. Jim closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the couch.

The boy's hair was long, way too long. He opened his eyes. Hadn't Blair once mentioned his hair being almost to his rear? Something about coming off an expedition. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force the memory.

 _"You think this is long, you should have seen it when we got back from Irian Jaya. The tree people there see hair length in their warriors as a sign of masculinity. Like I was going to cut it after learning that little factoid."_

 _"So what made you finally chop it off, Chief?"_

 _"I got tired of sitting on it, you know? Three weeks back and it was driving me nuts. Plus it took forever to wash and braid. I basically cut it before classes started. I didn't need to be hassled by some Neanderthal jock who couldn't appreciate the sociological symbols of adulthood from a different culture. Plus, American girls don't usually have strict rules regarding length -- of hair, that is."_

Jim sat up straight. So the documentary couldn't have been filmed during the school year.

 _If_ Blair was to be believed.

There had been no hesitancy during their conversation about his time in Irian Jaya, and the trip would be a matter of public record - one he could check first thing in the morning.

*-*-*-*-*-*

"So what have you discovered, Jim?" Simon Banks asked the next afternoon as he watched his friend pace in front of his desk.

"That I'm a complete idiot." Jim sighed.

"Do you want to explain that, detective?"

Jim stopped by the window, but didn't turn to face his captain. "In 1987, a film student named Mark Peterman won a UCLA film award for a short dramatic piece called "I'm Not an Addict." According to the write up, Peterman's documentary-like style was considered pretty cutting edge. In fact, the film is used in several high school anti-drug programs around the country. It's even won a couple of educational awards for its realistic portrayal of drug usage."

"I'm sensing there's something more?"

"Blair won a five thousand dollar scholarship at the same ceremony for best dramatic actor."

Simon leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. "But you can't fake being as thin as he was. That's a classic sign of an addict. Even if you could fake the track marks, make up and lighting will only do so much with weight."

Jim nodded and turned toward the seated man. "I know. I spoke with Janice, the Anthropology department's secretary. You know, Tim Wilson's wife? Apparently, Blair contracted malaria while he was in Irian Jaya. Between the heat and trying to shake the bug, he lost about twenty pounds. You remember how thin the kid was when he started riding with me? Subtract twenty pounds from that and you have a--"

"Poster child for addiction."

"Exactly." Jim sighed deeply. "Anyway, Peterman--"

"Wait a minute. You don't mean--"

"Yes, sir, Mark is J.P. Peterman's younger brother."

"Then that explains--"

"Yes, sir. Mark sent the raw footage to his brother, hoping that if J.P. couldn't see the addiction in himself that maybe he could see it in others and realize what he had become."

Simon shook his head sadly. "Ironically, I think he succeeded."

"In what way, sir?"

"J.P. claims to have been clean for over ten years. He said he did it for his little brother, but he was too deep into the business end of things to get out of the lifestyle."

Both men sat silence for several minutes.

"So what are we going to do, Jim?"

"Did you turn in Sandburg's observers' pass?"

"Of course not."

"Then hand it over; I have some apologizing to do."

*-*-*-*-*-*

Jim turned the dial down on his sense of hearing as he entered the old building used for student housing. He climbed to the third floor and knocked, ironically, on 307.

"It's open," a familiar voice called from within.

Taking a deep breath, Jim steeled himself and entered the tiny one bedroom apartment.

"Hello, Chief," he said quietly, shutting the door behind him.

Blair spun around, his eyes wide with shock. "Jim!" The blue eyes cooled instantly. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to apologize for my behavior the other day."

Blair remained silent.

"I guess you were right in your dissertation chapter, Chief. I do have a fear of intimacy." Jim tried to smile, but the smile faltered under the weight of the granite stare before him.

"It's not an excuse, Blair." Jim let out a slow breath of air. "Simon told me that I've been waiting for you to betray me like everyone else in my life has done. I guess he's right. It's hard to look at oneself from a dispassionate third person point of view, but I can see where he's right, where you were right."

Blair indicated that Jim should sit in one of the folding chairs at his card table, but remained standing himself.

"Sorry, seems so inadequate and yet it's all I have to give at the moment."

"It's as good a place to start as any," Blair whispered, finally taking a seat beside him.

"I'd like for you to come home, Blair."

Blair looked up into his eyes and Jim could see the longing there, so his response came as a surprise. "I can't... not just yet."

"Why not?" Jim whispered.

"Because we keep making the same mistakes, Jim, over and over again. We seem incapable of breaking the cycle."

"I still need you," Jim said softly.

Blair placed his hand over Jim's. "And I still need you."

"So what are we going to do?"

Blair swallowed hard. "I think we need to slow down and evaluate our situation before we spin out of control, then take things one step at a time until we get everything resolved."

Jim pulled his hand back, and immediately saw the pain in his friend's eyes. He quickly re-grabbed the hand and shook his head, then shifted awkwardly in the rickety wooden chair and pulled Blair's observer's pass out of his jacket pocket and laid it on the table.

Blair reverently ran his free hand over the laminated plastic.

"Can we start here?" Jim asked quietly, hopefully.

Blair looked up from the pass, his smile brilliant, his eyes bright. "Yeah, I think that would be an excellent place to start."


	2. After the Fact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim decides to try to learn a little more about Blair's past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank debrac and Keerah for the beta of this story and for reassuring me that I wouldn't be hung out to dry for the secret that Jim discovers about Blair.
> 
> Originally published in 2002.
> 
> *-*-*-*-*-*

Jim Ellison wiped the palms of his hands on the seat of his chinos before he knocked on the door to the cottage-like home in front of him.

"Coming," a female voice called out quietly.

Janice Wilson opened the door, her smile growing when she recognized Jim. "Jimmy, what brings you by?" She pulled the door further open and stepped aside to let him into the house.

Jim accepted her silent invitation and moved past her. He turned to face her as she shut the door. "I...uh...that is to say...there isn't an easy way to..." but he trailed to a stop when he noticed that her face had turned ash white.

"Tim," she whispered, sagging against the oak door.

"Oh, God, no, sweetheart." Jim quickly stepped forward to reassure her, berating himself for not thinking about how she would take an unexpected appearance from him during the middle of the day. Her husband, Tim Wilson, was a detective in the Homicide Department and he knew that every cop's wife lived in fear of getting _the call_. "Tim's fine. I wanted to talk to you about Blair." He gently wrapped his arm around her shoulders and led her into the living room.

"Tim's fine?" she asked in whispered relief as she sank into the overstuffed chair.

"Yes. In fact, I saw him just before I came over," Jim hastened to reassure her. "Can I get you some water?"

Janice shook her head. "And Blair's fine?"

Jim took that as his cue to sit down in the chair beside hers. "That's what I was hoping you could tell me."

Janice shook herself slightly. "I'm...I'm sorry for overreacting."

"There's absolutely nothing to apologize for. I should have realized how my appearance at your doorway would appear, but I haven't been thinking too clearly lately."

"No..." Janice started to shake her head, but ended up laughing instead. "Aren't we a pair? Why don't we start over?" She turned in her seat so she was facing him fully. "So, Jim, what a pleasant surprise. What can I do for you?"

Jim smirked at her, then sobered. "You've heard that Blair moved out?"

"Yes, sugar, I have. It'll all blow over. You know that, right? I mean, it's just with the whole Ventriss ordeal, and the chancellor playing stupid games, and the anniversary of Joseph's death...it was just too much. Once he calms down, he'll be okay."

Jim dropped his gaze to his clasped hands.

"What is it, Jimmy?" Janice asked in concerned, moving to the edge of her chair.

Jim swallowed hard then looked back at her. "You, of all people, know that while Blair says a lot, he rarely divulges anything of himself."

Janice nodded. "I know. He's been like that since JoJo died. It's a form of defense, I think. If he doesn't let anyone too close to his heart, he can't be hurt when they leave."

"Like Joseph."

"Yes, like Joseph."

Jim sat in silence, trying to gather his thoughts.

"What's going on, Jim?"

Jim rubbed one hand over his mouth, then said softly, "Would it surprise you to learn that Blair has never told me about Joseph?"

Janice's eyes widened, almost comically, but Jim was not in the mood for comedy. "No, that's not possible. You two have been friends for what, three years now? Are you saying he's never brought Joey's name up once?"

"Not once."

"Jim, think. Surely, you're wrong."

Jim shook his head.

"Oh, my god," Janice said, standing and pacing to the fireplace, then back. She tried to speak, but turned and made another circuit. "Joseph was Blair's entire world. I can't...I won't believe... Blair, what have...." She stopped and ran her fingers through her short-cropped hair. "What is that boy thinking?"

"I was hoping you could tell me about Joseph. I mean, Jesse lead me to believe they were in a long-term relationship. I never would have guessed that Blair was..."

"Married?"

It was Jim's turn to do a double take. "Married? But I thought..."

Janice's brows knitted together in confusion, then gave a startled laugh. Sobering quickly, she walked back to her chair and sat down. "Josephine Joan McKearney-Sandburg. Blair called her Joseph. You know, like Paul called Jamie 'James' on _Mad About You_?" When Jim nodded, she continued, "She absolutely hated being called Josephine."

"Thus Joey, JoJo, Joseph," Jim said quietly.

"Exactly." Janice nodded. "Lord, where to start? Do you have some time?"

"I'm totally and completely yours for as long as you'll have me," Jim said quietly, earnestly.

"Or, at least, until the twins wake up. You're lucky, they just went down. Let me get us something to drink and give me a moment to pull my thoughts together. I'll be right back."

Jim rubbed both hands over his face. God. Sandburg had been married. How could he keep silent about something like that?

Janice returned moments later and handed him a glass of raspberry ice tea.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

Janice sat down, shaking her head as she did so. "A part of me feels like I'm betraying a confidence by telling you about Blair's past," she raised her hands to cut off his protest, "but I can't believe that he's never once talked about Jo in all the time you've known him." She rubbed her eyebrows with one hand. "I think the best place to start is the beginning." When he nodded, she continued, "You know Blair was something of a child genius?"

"I know he started attending Rainier when he was sixteen."

Janice nodded. "Nowadays, it's not uncommon to have students working on some college credits while attending high school. However, Blair was attending college full-time. I had just started working as departmental secretary. Since Blair knew he wanted to go into anthropology, he arranged to have Eli Stoddard act as his guidance counselor, which meant I saw him a lot. Blair managed to test out of quite a few entry level courses, so he basically hit the ground running. He was so earnest, so worried about failure. He studied all the time, rarely smiled, and tried desperately not to draw attention to himself. And for the most part, he got his wish."

Janice took a sip of her tea. "That lasted until he started blowing the bell curve off the exams. The first couple of times, the other students just grumbled. But after a while, they started to resent him. By mid-semester, he had become the target of several jocks, who thought they'd use the little brain for their own purposes."

"What happened?" Jim asked, although he thought he might know.

"They thought they'd get him to write their papers for them." She laughed. "Of course, it didn't work out quite the way they thought it would."

Jim smiled waiting for the punch line.

"He basically retyped the text book. Since the jocks hadn't read the text, they assumed it looked pretty good when they reviewed the papers. You know, to," Janice raised her fingers in quote signs, "make sure he hadn't pulled anything. They were more than shocked when they all failed. And what could they say? That they had forced Blair to write the papers for them?"

"But--" Jim prompted, knowing the story wasn't done.

"They took their lumps, but they started gunning for Blair. Not anything bad, you realize. Nothing that could get them kicked off the team. Just a pushing and shoving sort of thing."

"So what did Sandburg do?"

"First he tried to talk his way out of it, and, in fact, succeeded in getting two of the jocks to leave him alone. But the other two, Harkness and Brighten, couldn't be dissuaded." Janice looked up at Jim and smiled. "You do realize that while Blair rarely loses it, he does have quite a temper?"

Jim nodded. "I've seen it just recently...right after the Ventriss matter."

"Then you know he burns pretty bright?" When Jim nodded, she continued, "Just to spite them, he raised the academic bar, taunted them when they confronted him and basically became an anti-social little shit.

"I was really starting to worry about him. While he put on a brave front, he was rushed twice to the campus clinic because of panic attacks. He got through the semester okay, but he hadn't won any friends. In the spring, he took some mid-level anthropology class and was assigned a partner for the first project. Without giving his partner a chance, he told her to sit back, stay out of his way and he'd get them an 'A'."

"She being Joseph, of course?"

Janice took a sip of her tea. "Of course."

"So what happened?" Jim asked, intently curious about this part of his partner's life.

"You've heard the term 'and sparks flew'?" Janice asked, then proceeded when Jim nodded. "It was the knock-down, blow-out, take-no-prisoners, argument-of-the-century. By the end of the first day, half the staff, the administration and security had been involved in one way or another."

"You're joking?"

Janice laughed. "A little bit. That's how we all look back on it though." Janice took a sip of her tea. "Joey was twenty and not about to put up with any crap from Blair. Yet, at the same time, she knew what he had been through and sympathized. She respected him, but demanded that he give her the same respect."

"So when did it turn to love?" Jim asked quietly.

Janice sat back in her chair. "I'm not sure really. All I know is that one day they were arguing like usual, and afterwards Joey leaned forward and brushed a kiss over Blair's lips."

"How old was he?"

"Seventeen. Although now that I think about it, he'd been wearing a fairly stunned look on his face for a couple of weeks." Janice laughed. "She probably rocked his world."

"When did they marry?"

"About a month after Blair turned seventeen. They married in Hawaii on their way to Irian Jaya." Janice smiled gently at him. "I know what you're thinking, but Blair was an emancipated minor, so there wasn't any legal reason they couldn't proceed."

Jim leaned forward and set his glass on a coaster on the coffee table. "Not to sound judgmental, but why would a twenty-year-old marry a seventeen-year-old?"

"Because Joey had leukemia. She was in remission, but she knew her days were numbered. She once told me she didn't want to die a solitary virgin. Besides, she truly loved Blair."

"But...but..."

"Blair knew, Jim. The marriage was actually his idea. She refused at first, was terrified of how her death would affect him, but he demanded that she live life and they'd deal with the consequences as they came. She tried to be strong against him, but Blair's love is formidable. Very few can stand strong in the face of his heart. She never had a chance and he knew it." Janice tilted her head for a second as if listening for her children, then continued. "They each continued their schooling. Every school break and summer they went off to exotic locales." Janice's voice shook as she said, "In the three and a half years they were together they lived more and experienced more than most married couples do in a lifetime."

"When..." Jim started, but was unable to ask the rest of the question.

"Shortly after Blair received his Bachelors. Joey had been in pain for quite some time, but had been downplaying it. They were devastated when they got the news. He never left her side, Jim. Ever. He was a rock. He made sure every day contained laughter; he filled every minute of her day. She didn't linger in bed. He took her to the mountains, they went to the beach, and he massaged her limbs when she was in pain. He poured everything he was into her."

"And when she died?"

"I thought he would die too." She sighed softly. "After the funeral, he had a meeting with her lawyer, apparently she was from money and had made arrangements to care for him after her death."

Jim shook his head trying to reconcile what he knew about his perpetually broke partner and what Janice was telling him.

Janice took a quick sip of tea, then sat on the edge of her chair. "Blair rarely uses the money, Jim."

"But he's always broke."

"He was living in a warehouse when you met him, wasn't he?"

"Yeah."

"Any idea what that costs?"

Jim closed his eyes as he remembered. "He said it was eight hundred bucks for ten thousand square feet." Jim's eyes snapped open as he remembered his partner's impassioned pleas for housing. "He said he had nowhere to go."

As if reading his mind, Janice answered, "And at midnight on a weeknight with an ape, he probably didn't."

"So he was using me?"

Janice frowned at him. "Jim, may I be frank with you?" When he nodded, she continued, "I'm the departmental secretary for the anthropology department."

Jim frowned at her.

"Which means I know what Blair's dissertation topic really is as opposed to what he tells people. But like a doctor or lawyer, I am bound by a code of ethics that would never let me repeat such knowledge. Not even to Tim." When she had his full attention, she asked, "Do you really think Blair was using you?"

Jim swallowed hard, then shook his head.

"You needed him, but you were too stubborn to admit it. However, your protective instincts would never allow you to throw him out on the streets, so he used your nature to end run you so he could be by your side when you needed him."

"Makes sense," Jim mumbled quietly.

"It also gives Blair a reason not to use Joey's money." She leaned back in her chair. "After the meeting with the attorney, he disappeared, totally fell of the face of the planet. We didn't see or hear from him again until he walked back in through our door with a master's in anthropology from Stanford University. When he came back, he spoke with Dr. Stoddard and rejoined us to work on his doctorate."

"How was he when he came back?" Jim asked softly.

"On the surface, he looked like Blair."

"On the surface?"

Janice nodded. "He was still as sweet and kind as ever, could still light up a room simply by entering it, would still bend over backwards to help a friend, but he never allowed anyone to touch him again like Joseph...until you."

"Until me?"

Janice smiled. "And, oh, how he's fought against you."

"What?" Jim asked, shaking his head. "What are you talking about?"

"He didn't want to care about you, Jim. Even though he knew you needed help, he wanted to treat you like a test subject. He tried very hard to dazzle you with his patter, to keep you a safe distance away."

Jim smiled at the memory of his friend when they first met. "He was an annoying little shit to begin with."

"Until Lash took him."

Jim nodded, when he realized that was when he, too, had noticed a change in his friend.

"You went after him and rescued him when he thought he was alone in the world. I've watched him alternatively revel in your friendship and being scared senseless by it. I've watched your friendship mutate into a soul abiding love and I've watched as it slowly ripped itself apart."

"Love?" Jim asked in a whisper, swallowing hard.

Janice nodded.

"And it ripped itself apart?"

Janice reached out and took his hand in hers. "Since the fountain."

"But...but..."

"You want my take on it?"

Jim simply nodded, unable to find the words.

"You've been pushing him away," Janice said non-judgmentally. "His death shook you to the core and left you vulnerable in a way you had never experienced before, despite your background. But unlike Joseph's death, you were left with a breathing body. Blair knew you had chased him into the afterlife and had, pardon the vernacular, hauled his ass back out. After finally understanding what you two truly had, he decided to give love one more chance--only to have you reject him."

Jim withdrew his hand from hers.

Janice smiled sadly at him. "I think I know why you did it, Jim. Like Blair, you had decided never to let anyone close to your heart again. And boom, there he was inside your defenses."

Janice sat back in her chair. "Have I mentioned that you two need to work on timing?" She laughed, almost to herself. "So here we are. Blair opened himself and was rejected. After he curled in on himself, you opened yourself and were rejected. So we have two rejected men, very much in love with each other. Ironic, huh?"

"Mamamamamamamamamamamama," a soft voice called out from the other room, only to be joined a moment later by another voice.

"Look, Jim..."

Jim stood. "I know. Thank you for seeing me this afternoon, Janice. I'm sorry about the scare."

Janice stood as well. "Good luck, Jimmy. Take care of our boy."

"I'll try, sweetheart. I'll try."

*-*-*-*-*-*

Jim turned down his hearing and slowly climbed the stairs to the third floor of the student housing apartment building, reflecting on the changes in his friendship with the grad student since Blair moved out of the loft. Blair still came down to the precinct to help him, was still the helpful spirit he had always been, still took his job as guide very seriously. In fact no one from the station, except Simon, knew they no longer lived together. However, when Blair wasn't at the station, he was in his apartment, working full-time on his dissertation, having decided not to pursue his teaching fellowship after the Ventriss scandal.

He took a moment to compose himself before he knocked on the door.

A moment later, he heard the click of the deadbolt and the door opened.

"Jim," Blair greeted with a surprised but happy smile. "What are you doing here? Come on in?"

"I hope I'm not interrupting you, Chief," Jim said as he entered the apartment.

Blair closed the door behind him. "Not at all. In fact, your timing couldn't be more perfect."

"Oh, how so?"

Blair did a Vanna White sweep of his arms over his desk and grinned. "I just finished printing off the final draft of my dissertation. I still need to go to the media center and play with formatting and all, but the text is done."

Jim felt a puddle of ice form in his stomach. "Congratulations."

"Would you care to accept the honor of being the first non-academic to read it?"

Jim looked up from the neat stack of papers and into the blue eyes which seemed to pierce him to the core. "You want me to read it? After...after everything we've been through."

"Of course, man. While it's not solely about you like the first one was, you're still definitely part of the process man. Once I get it printed, I'll be giving copies to Simon and the guys as well."

"What?" Jim asked in shock.

Blair ushered him to the desk and gently pushed him in the seat. "Just read, all right? Geesh."

Jim swallowed hard and noted that his hand shook slightly as he reached out to touch the stack of papers.

"You want some coffee?"

"Sure," he said quietly as he moved the stack of papers toward him and read the title page. "What's going on? This...this isn't...."

"No, it's not," Blair said just as quietly, pouring water into a teakettle that had definitely seen better days.

"But...I thought...."

Blair turned on the flame under the kettle, then leaned back against the counter and gave Jim a frank look. "Do I really have to go into all the reasons why the first dissertation wouldn't have been feasible?"

Jim swallowed again. "No, I just never thought. Blair... What about your dream?"

"What about it?"

"You can't just give it up."

"I'm not."

"I don't understand."

Blair turned and opened the cupboard. "Getting my doctorate wasn't my dream, Jim. It was the means to an end." He reached up and pulled out a mug, never looking at Jim.

"A means to an end?"

Blair shrugged as he scooped a spoonful of instant coffee in the mug. "I wanted to find a sentinel and I did. Two actually. Doesn't mean I have to write about them. I don't have to prove my theory to the world, because I proved it to myself."

"But Blair--"

"Besides, I told you a long time ago that I had enough research material for ten dissertations. I'm simply choosing to focus on another area."

Jim stood and noticed the stiffness in his friend's back. "I thought it was impossible to get a dissertation subject changed."

Blair snorted in amusement. "Not impossible, but it takes a hell of a lot of work though."

Jim closed the distance between them and gently laid one hand on his partner's shoulder. Blair jumped as if burned, then scooted further down the counter, still refusing to look at him.

"Why did you do it, Blair?" Jim asked softly.

Blair laughed harshly but refused to turn around. "That's rich, Jim. That's just rich. You know what? I think you better go. I'll mail you a copy of the fully formatted version."

Jim remained rooted to his spot. "I know why you did it," he whispered.

Blair finally turned and crossed his arms over his chest, his dark blue eyes revealing nothing. "You do, do you?"

"You did it because you love me," Jim said with quiet certainty.

"I did it because one of my research subjects killed me and the other one thought it best to mate with her as punishment." Blair's voice was ice, his eyes colder than Jim had ever seen them.

"So why not publish and expose me for the bastard I truly am?" Though the question itself was harsh, Jim's voice wasn't. "Why should you care what happens to me?"

"I don't care what happens to you."

Jim smiled gently and took a step closer to his guide. "I don't quite believe you. Try it again. This time with feeling."

"I don't...don't care what happens...to you."

Jim took another step and found himself nose-to-nose with his partner. "Yes, you do."

Blair looked like a deer trapped in the blare of oncoming traffic.

"You love me."

"Get over yourself, Ellison." Blair tried to push him back, but Jim refused to budge.

"I knew what you were offering," Jim admitted quietly. "In the hospital. But I was terrified of what it meant."

"So, of course, you immediately went out and tried to boff my killer." Blair crossed his arms again over his chest. "It's what I'd do in a situation like that."

"No, you wouldn't," Jim countered softly and reached up to cup Blair's chin. Blair knocked his hand aside.

"I think you need to leave now, Jim."

"No."

"No? Why not? It's what you're good at, isn't it?"

"I wasn't the one who left last time," Jim bit out, before he was able to rein in his anger.

Blair laughed harshly. "Touché, Jim."

Jim shook his head sadly. "Shit. We really do keep making the same mistakes, don't we?"

Blair tiredly rubbed both hands over his face. "Apparently so. Look, Jim. I've been up all night trying to get this puppy finished. Maybe it would be better if you came back tomorrow, after I get a little sleep."

"Please," Jim whispered hoarsely, then cleared his throat and tried again. "Please don't send me away."

Blair closed his eyes as if praying for patience. "I can't do this right now."

"I know. I know." Jim closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around his guide. A part of him was pleased when Blair sighed wearily, leaned his head against his chest and returned the hug. "Why do you put up with me?"

Blair snorted against his shirt. "Hell if I know."

Jim chuckled with his friend. "You know, I'm very proud of you for finishing your dissertation."

"Thanks."

"So what are you going to do once you receive your doctorate?"

"I don't know. I honestly haven't thought that far ahead."

"Will you come home?" Jim asked softly into Blair's hair.

Blair stiffened in Jim's arms, pulled back slightly and looked up into his friend's face. "Home?"

"At least until you know what you want to do, where you want to go?"

"Jim--"

"Look, no pressure, just until you figure out what direction you want to go next."

Blair blinked up at him, his eyes clearly showing his confusion. "Okay," he said at last.

"And I promise, we'll talk about everything."

"Everything?"

"Yes, everything."

*-*-*-*-*-*

"Dr. Sandburg, I presume," Jim said with a wide smile as he opened the door and found his partner standing in the hallway.

Blair grinned at him, then suddenly looked shy. "I...uh...I understand you have a room for rent."

Jim stepped backward and raised his hand, waving Blair into the loft. Blair hesitated, then almost stumbled inside.

"Where's your stuff?" Jim asked, noticing his guide's empty hands.

"In the car." Blair stuffed his hands in his back pockets. "You mentioned us talking first."

Jim nodded. "You want a beer?"

Blair shook his head. "No, thanks."

"So where should we start?"

Blair shrugged.

Jim sucked on his lower lip for a moment and took a deep breath. "How about I go first?"

"Knock yourself out, man."

"Okay." Jim hesitated a moment, wondering exactly where he should start. "I love you, Blair Sandburg," he said quietly, deciding to go for the truth first.

Blair smiled. "I love you, too, Jim."

Jim shook his head. "I don't mean to contradict you here, Chief, and I really hope you'll repeat those words to me in a couple of minutes, but I need you to understand that I'm in love with you."

Blair blinked several times.

"See the difference?"

Blair walked over to the overstuffed chair and flopped down into it. Clearing his throat, he said, "I...uh...yeah, I see the difference."

Moving slowly, so as not to startle his friend, Jim moved to the couch and sat so that their knees touched.

"So...so for how long?" Blair asked after a moment of silence.

"Now that's the tricky part." Jim rubbed a hand back over his short-cropped hair. "I...I think since Peru."

"Peru? But that was like a year and a half ago."

Jim nodded. "I know."

"But...but..."

"I didn't realize it was love, though," Jim said softly, cutting off his friend's protests. "It wasn't until you were in the hospital that I realized what it was and, more importantly, that you loved me as well."

Blair closed his eyes as if in pain. "As I recall--"

"I rejected you," Jim finished for him. "Yes, I know."

"I...I don't understand, Jim." Blair opened his eyes, the windows to his soul showing his internal conflict.

"I let her kill you, left you unprotected."

"But you brought me back."

"I couldn't face my failure."

Blair jumped to his feet. Looking down at his partner, he shouted, "So you decided to try and fuck her instead?"

"Chief," Jim said with such agony, that Blair sat back down into the cushions. "I...I..."

"I know, Jim. I know." Blair reached forward and clumsily patted Jim's knee.

"So why...." Jim waved a hand between the two of them.

"Knowing that you were controlled by some primitive sexual instinct is quite a bit different from accepting it...here," Blair said, laying a hand over his own heart.

Jim slumped back against the couch. "I've failed you in so many different ways."

Blair snorted with amusement. "I think it's fair to say we've both failed each other, Jim."

"So where does that leave us?"

Blair shrugged. "Hell if I know."

They both sat in silence, lost in their own thoughts for several minutes.

"How about a truth for a truth?" Jim suggested.

Blair frowned. "I don't understand."

"I'll tell you a truth, one of my truths, then you'll tell me one of yours, and we'll do it again and again...until we clear the air between us."

Blair remained silent.

"Game?"

Finally, Blair nodded.

Jim took a deep breath and released it slowly. "I've experimented...with men before."

Blair blinked in shock. "W-When?" he finally asked when he could find his voice again.

"A couple of times, when I was in Vice."

"But--"

"But not since I married Carolyn."

Blair looked stunned.

After several minutes of silence, Jim cleared his throat. "Um, Blair."

His guide looked at him expectantly.

"It's your turn."

Blair blinked a few more times. "I...I haven't."

"What?" Jim asked in shock. "But...but you invited me into the water."

"Yeah, I know."

"Do you even have any idea what to expect in _that_ sort of relationship?"

Blair smiled. "The internet is a wonderful thing."

"What if I had said yes?"

"Then I would have dealt. But as it happened, you weren't ready to take that trip with me as I recall," Blair said, unable to keep the bitterness completely out of his voice. He closed his eyes. "Sorry, man. I'm sorry."

Jim took his hand and held it in his. "Don't be. We need to get this all out on the table." Jim sighed, then chuckled. "I just...just didn't expect you to be a...."

"Virgin?"

"Yeah."

It was Blair's turn to chuckle. "It's...uh...it's about to get worse."

"How so?"

Blair withdrew his hand from Jim's grasp and tucked a stray curl behind his ear. "I...uh...I haven't actually...that is to say..."

"Done the deed?"

"Yeah, for about seven years."

"Not even with Samantha?"

"Do I look crazy? No, don't answer that." Blair grinned. "No, Sam was all about being an intellectual equal and teasing, but trust me, she never had any intention of putting out, as it were."

"What about Molly?"

Blair smiled gently. "No."

"But I walked in on you and...what was her name? Christine?"

"Yeah, well, that was a mistake." Blair leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees and held his head briefly in his hands. "I just needed to connect with someone, you know? Just needed to feel alive."

"But you didn't--"

"No. I realized, after she left, that I would have just been using her, which wasn't fair to her or..."

"Joseph," Jim barely breathed the word, but he might as well have shouted it given Blair's reaction. Blair bolted from his chair, then stopped in front of the television and spun to face Jim.

"What?"

"I'm sorry, Blair. Truly, I am." Jim sank back, defeatedly, into the cushions. "After the tape incident, I realized I didn't know anything about you."

"You couldn't just ask me?"

"And what would you have told me? More expedition stories? Look, I wasn't expecting to find anything. I just asked a few questions when people called. You know that my first reaction to everything seems to be anger, so I thought if I knew things then I wouldn't...."

"Act like an ass?"

Jim smiled briefly at his friend. Blair's whole body was tense as if he were trying to decide whether to run or fight. "Something like that," he finally said.

Blair swallowed hard, but didn't say anything.

"Your friends kept chastising me, reminding me of Joseph's...death...as if I should have known better."

Blair ran both hands back through his hair, but remained silent.

"I thought, at first, that...well, you know?"

Blair looked blankly at him for a moment, then his eyes got big and he snorted with amusement, but said nothing.

"So, I went to talk to Janice."

Blair's shoulders slumped and his entire body seemed to go almost limp. He walked to the opposite end of the couch and flopped down. "So, now you know."

"Yeah. I'm sorry, Chief.."

"It..." Blair stopped, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Once he let it go, he stared intently at Jim. "It wasn't like I was trying to keep her a secret, man."

"It just hurt too much to talk about her."

Blair nodded.

"Janice also said that you didn't want to care about me."

Blair smiled gently at Jim. "I didn't."

"You want to know what else she said?"

"Sure. Why not?"

Jim moved slightly closer to his partner. "She said I've been pushing you away and that I pushed you right after you decided to give love one more chance."

Blair sighed. "You know what I think?"

"No, tell me."

"I think Janice talks too much."

Jim closed the remaining distance between them. "She also thinks we need to work on timing; that we're simply two rejected men, very much in love with each other."

"So what do _you_ suggest we do?"

Jim smiled, and reached out to cup his partner's cheek in his hand, noting that Blair leaned slightly into his touch. "I think we need to bring your boxes up, but unpack them upstairs."

Blair blinked, then sat up. "Jim--"

"I know we have problems, Blair," he said quietly, "but I think the best way to work them out is together. And knowing how we each feel about each other, it just seems silly to continue stepping around the elephant in the middle of the room."

"There is a certain...logic to that train of thought."

"I thought so," Jim murmured, leaning forward and brushing his lips over Blair's.

Blair's lips trembled, but he didn't move away. Jim brought his hand up and, as he kissed his partner again, gently placed his thumb on Blair's chin and opened the younger man's mouth. He dipped his tongue in and explored the warm sweetness. Blair moaned softly as his tongue tentatively touched Jim's. Jim groaned in approval, moving closer and wrapping his arms around his guide.

Twisting slightly, Jim managed to lay Blair out on the couch, then cover the slightly smaller body with his own. Blair's kisses became hungrier, more demanding; his hands pulling Jim's shirt from his jeans and splaying them over Jim's skin, causing the sentinel to arch into his lover.

Jim nudged Blair's head with his nose and sniffed at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, flicking his tongue over the soft skin, then gently biting it. Blair's entire body thrust against Jim's as he dug fingers into Jim's back muscles.

"Say it, Blair," Jim demanded, biting his lover's collarbone, even as he thrust his hips downward, pinning the smaller man to the couch. "Tell me. Please. Tell me."

Blair arched upward, lifting Jim off the couch, his body begging for touch. "Jim!"

"Come on, baby, say it."

"I love you," Blair gasped. "I love you, damn it. Now touch me!"

Jim chuckled wickedly. "Oh, I intend to do a lot more than just touch you."

Blair's legs wrapped around Jim's. "Anytime soon?"

"This soon enough?" Jim murmured, raising up on his forearms and ravaging Blair's mouth. Blair wiggled to get into a better position and moaned when he realized their bodies were in alignment.

Jim scraped his teeth along Blair's neck and sucked tenderly on his guide's Adam's apple, even as he scraped his fingers down Blair's cloth-covered side.

Blair growled but parted his legs, and Jim backed off slightly to look at Blair's face. Blair brought his knees up carefully and planted his feet flat on the couch, then pushed upward, daring Jim to push him back down again. Jim thrust downward, answering the challenge. They slowly found a rhythm of moving against each other, then separating, only to be drawn back together. They moved with such incredible slowness that their entire world became about sensation and touch.

Jim could hear the friction of their jeans, could feel the heat between them intensify, the need to release slowly growing. He grunted softly with each thrust, frustrated by his inability to crawl inside Blair. He began to move faster.

"Come on, Jim, come on," Blair encouraged, scratching Jim's back, biting at his collarbone. Jim thrust harder, racing toward the edge of control.

"Blair," he cried out.

"Trust me. I'll catch you. Let go."

And he did, thrusting against his guide, crying out with his release, hearing Blair's voice join his. He collapsed on top of Blair, then tried to slide off to one side, but Blair held him tighter.

"No, stay with me," Blair whispered.

"Forever," Jim vowed.

Blair nodded, his chest heaving to catch his breath. Jim pushed himself up onto his elbows and looked down into the sweaty beloved face beneath him. "I love you."

"I know."

"And when...when it doesn't hurt so much, I'd like to know more about...Joseph."

Blair's eyes widened in surprise. "Why?"

"Because I'm not competing for your heart, Chief, I'm just want to share it."

Blinking suspiciously bright eyes, Blair nodded. "Okay."

"I'm going to continue to make mistakes, Blair. God knows I don't want to, but--"

"It's the nature of the beast."

Jim brushed back several strands of hair plastered to his lover's face. "Just don't run, okay? No matter what I say or do, please don't leave me."

Blair reached out and gently cupped his hand over Jim's cheek. "Forever begins today, Jim. It begins today."


End file.
